


Fair Game

by cupcakeb



Series: set that crown on the ground [1]
Category: Elite (TV)
Genre: F/M, Half-Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:33:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23692420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupcakeb/pseuds/cupcakeb
Summary: She’ll forget all about this little game they’re playing sometimes, and then they’re at a club, at a function, at a party and suddenly their eyes meet across the room and three drinks in she can’t even chastise herself for allowing her thoughts to drift, to what could be.They’ve never played a fair game, and the longer they play she wonders if there are any winners in this game at all.
Relationships: Lucrecia "Lu" Montesinos Hendrich/Valerio Montesinos Hendrich
Series: set that crown on the ground [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1753876
Comments: 13
Kudos: 124





	Fair Game

**Author's Note:**

> There is shockingly little fic available for this inappropriate yet mesmerizing pairing. Yes, it's wrong, yes, I still had to write this. Enjoy!
> 
> (Title taken from Sia's "Fair Game", which is flawless.)

Valerio likes to act tough. He hides behind a facade of careless youth; the life of the party, the one who’s never going to turn down one last drink, one last line, one last puff.

But Lu knows better. Knows that he cares, about people, about making sure everyone feels included, about her.

As far as resentment goes, he’s a pretty fun person to scoff at. And as an expert scoffer, a model student, a popular girl with money, riling him up is the best hobby Lu could have asked for. She guesses he feels the same way about her.

He’s got all the key characteristics of an older brother down. He’s protective, bordering on jealous, and looks out for her in the most selfish ways imaginable. If she’s gonna have fun, he wants to be involved. If she’s miserable, he presents himself as a cure for her misery, a drug for her to take. It works surprisingly well. He makes for a great drug dealer.

She’ll forget all about this little game they’re playing sometimes, and then they’re at a club, at a function, at a party and suddenly their eyes meet across the room and three drinks in she can’t even chastise herself for allowing her thoughts to drift, to what could be. (To what’s _going to_ happen later that night, when it’s just them, when she calls him Val and wants to freeze time.)

They’re all alone in this. There’s no one she can confide in, not without being declared mentally unfit or being disowned. When your drug dealer is also your therapist and closest confidant, things will inevitably go wrong.

They’ve never played a fair game, and the longer they play she wonders if there are any winners in this game at all.

…

It’s simple, really.

His mom’s a career woman who happened to get pregnant and more or less pawned him off to their dad the second she could. Their dad is a family man - part of his job as an ambassador is being seen as relatable and good-natured - so he puts up with him, takes him in and has his new wife - her mother - raise him even if he’s a little troublemaker from the very start.

He leaves for boarding school at age 8, and comes back at 17 looking like he’s seen everything the world has to offer and still doesn’t care enough to take it. Their dad wouldn’t tell her what he’s done to get kicked out, and when she sneaks into his room after midnight, he’s already waiting for her with a bottle of the fancy wine Carla’s dad sometimes brings over to dinner parties, pouring her a glass the second she closes the door behind her.

“Is this what you got expelled for?” She scoffs, but takes the glass from him anyway which makes him grin at her smugly.

“Do you really think underage drinking is cause enough for expulsion?” He sits down on his bed, glass of wine in hand, and she takes him in. Shirtless, because he’s such a fucking free spirit, always chasing a good time, never giving a shit about anything else. His abs are on full display, which is just unfair, because she’s not allowed to stare at them, and she’s definitely not allowed to want to touch them. It’s bad enough having to follow him on Instagram from afar and seeing all the skinny dipping pictures he shares - she didn’t need the reminder.

He raises his glass in mock salute, but she’s quick to grab his wrist and make him wait for her to clink her glass against his. She makes eye contact and holds it, unwilling to lose this battle where the first one to look down is declared the weaker link. When he does look down, she lets go of his wrist triumphantly and studies the wine glass in her hand. He looks away from her, takes a gulp of his drink, and lies back against his pillows.

“It was coke,” he mumbles under his breath, and when she doesn’t react he continues. “They walked in on me snorting it with the headmistress’ daughter.”

Lu’s first instinct is to ask who the fuck this girl is, and why he was alone with her, but she stops herself. (Getting territorial is kind of her thing, okay?)

“You’re such a fucking idiot, Val.”

He sighs, probably because he knows it’s true.

“I don’t think I regret it,” he glances at her and his grin turns mischievous. “It’s good to be home.”

She hates herself for how happy hearing him say those words makes her.

“You haven’t been home for longer than a few weeks in years,” she wonders aloud, “How are we gonna live under one roof?”

“Aww, come on,” he finishes the rest of his wine and touches her shoulder absentmindedly. Which would be fine, except for the way it makes her want to lean closer. “You know we’re gonna have the best time together.”

She has a feeling his definition of a good time is a little different than hers. But Lu is nothing if not a willing student when it comes to expanding her horizons.

And really, she’s glad to have him around. At fifteen, having a fun-loving, attractive, cooler older brother who you can show off at parties sounds pretty good to her.

…

It’s two days before he kisses her.

Or maybe she kisses him, she wouldn’t be able to tell you (okay, maybe she would) because she’s had a lot of gin, and gin makes her a little forgetful.

They’re on the back deck next to the pool, drinking and mocking their family, none of whom are at home. (Thank fucking god)

He treats her like an equal, not a kid or a tiny adult — the two extremes people in her life seem to see her as — and if that means drinking a whole bottle of gin and giving up on sleepover plans with Carla, she’s fine with it.

She’s in a flimsy beach overthrow and a bikini while he’s down to just swim trunks and when the bottle of gin is finally empty, he gives her a look that she instantly recognizes; a look that has always meant trouble.

So when he picks her up (effortlessly, might she add, because he’s tall and muscular in the way 17-year-old boys who have an unfairly fast metabolism are) she knows what’s about to happen.

“Valerio,” she screeches in warning, and he moves from carrying her over his shoulder to bridal style. “Val, I swear to god, if you don’t put me down right now I’ll-“

He doesn’t let her finish that sentence as he jumps into the pool with her.

The cold water is a shock to her system, and feels surprisingly good in her current state of inebriation. She’s drunk, but the water has made her senses kick into gear so she feels more alert.

She wonders if this is how cocaine makes you feel. Maybe she could ask Val to try it with him sometime, just to be sure. (Two days with him and he’s already ruined straightlaced Lu - has made her think about trying drugs. They’re a little too alike at their core and it scares her. He’s her, but _unhinged_.)

Before she can linger on the thought, she feels Val resurface behind her, shaking the water out of his hair like a greek god turned shampoo model. His crooked smile is both boyish and catlike at once. She wonders if he’s as drunk as she is.

“Valerio,” she says, going to scold him for throwing her into the water like that, but she changes her mind. Instead, she splashes him. “You’re going down!”

He chuckles and starts splashing her back.

“I’m going down? Am I? Huh?”

Their little water fight turns into her trying to push his head underwater, and soon she finds herself clinging to him instead, her fingers interlaced behind his head, both of them giggling.

And just like that, they both stop laughing. The air between them is so tense, she’s not sure she could breathe if she tried. It feels familiar, and exciting and terrifying at once.

“Val,” she whispers, trying for a warning tone, but she falters.

He stares at her, his chocolate-colored eyes mirroring her own. Once again, they play a game they’ve come to love. Who will give in first, who will show weakness, recklessness, bravery, maybe all of the above.

(It’s him, of course it’s him.)

So when he finally closes the gap between them and kisses her, neither of them is surprised, but both of them know better.

All kinds of warning bells go off in her head. Fuck, she thinks, but she can’t think properly while he’s this close so any effort of resisting is futile.

But hell, he’s basically a drug addict and she’s running away from problems of her own, and this can’t be the worst way to cope, can it?

So she kisses him back. Puts an end to any possibility of later suggesting this was one-sided, that he overstepped. She kisses him back hard enough, she thinks his lip may be bleeding from where she bit down on it.

That’s how it starts. That’s how they finally end up in a place of no return.

But it’s not how it ends.

...

Days pass and neither of them mention it. They don’t talk about how she woke up with her lips still bruised and imprints of his hands on her hips from where he gripped tight and held her close.

Their father gets back from his business trip and they ignore how awkward family dinners feel. She convinces herself they’re awkward because he’s not really a part of this family because he’s never home for these random mundane moments.

He starts going to school with her, even though it’s almost April and there’s little more than two months left until summer break. She’s sure her dad pulled some strings to get him in, and really he should not be taking any classes with her considering their age difference, but nobody bats an eye when they walk into math class together and he sits down next to her. Academics have never been his forte, and watching him struggle with basic algebra would be amusing if it wasn’t so infuriating for Lu.

She never did understand why he couldn’t be bothered to make at least some semblance of an effort.

There’s end of year parties, birthdays, and charity events. When they run out of reasons for parties, he makes them up. Her friend group embraces him, because he’s fun-loving, cute, and always up for a good time.

Guzmán isn’t as pleased to have Valerio around 24/7. They’re not dating, really, so she doesn’t think he gets a say in how she spends her time when she isn’t with him. They’re in his room after school, and are meant to be studying but haven’t even opened their books yet when he makes a snide remark about Valerio and her being a package deal.

“He’s family, Guzmán,” she tells him incredulously when he asks why she’s been spending this much time with him. “He doesn’t have any friends here, he needs me!”

It’s an excuse, of course, because spending time with Guzmán hasn’t exactly been her number one priority now that her emotions are all over the place. She used to enjoy teasing him, this whole will-they-won't-they thing they had going on, but now the novelty has worn off.

“We both know any girl in school would be happy to spend time with him, he wouldn’t even need to ask,” he scoffs.

She bites her lip and hides a smile. Seeing him get all jealous is definitely both hot and endearing.

“So do you want to waste time being jealous of my _brother_ or would you rather put your mouth to better use?”

It takes him all of five seconds to push her onto her back and claim her mouth in a searing kiss.

Crisis averted. She’s glad his mother is somehow naive enough to not mind leaving her sixteen-year-old son alone in his room with a locked door and a girl.

The sex is good, better than good even, but she searches in vain for that edge, for the spark in his kiss that normally makes her entire body tingle.

When she gets home later that night, she showers what feels a lot like guilt off, slips into the comfiest set of pajamas she owns and walks to Valerio’s room before she can stop herself.

He’s sitting on his bed, a book in his lap and his abs on display. As he looks up at her, his smile is boyish and mischievous at once.

She swears under her breath, locks his door and walks over to him, resigned to her fate and determined all at once.

“Nice hickey,” he murmurs, watching her every move as she sits down next to him. The second she’s close enough, he reaches over and slides his hand down her neck, coming to rest on her collarbone where she know Guzmán left a sizable mark. She leans into his touch, transfixed.

“Val,” she manages, grabbing the book in his lap and sitting it down on his nightstand. “Can you read this later?”

He chuckles as he pulls her into his lap.

“I’m never gonna read that.”

…

Carla isn’t blind. She’s seeing less of her best friend than she ever has, with her splitting her time between Guzmán and the resurgence of Valerio, the infamous no-good older half brother she had only met in passing in all her years of being Lu’s best friend.

She knows Lu, perhaps better than anyone else, whether the other girl likes it or not. She prides herself on being able to read people. She watches them together at parties, after the clock strikes two, maybe three in the morning and everyone else is too far gone to notice.

If this was anyone else, she would expose them. But this is Lu, her best friend, the only other person in this fucked up world that she can share things with, who can relate to the high life not being all it’s cracked up to be.

So she watches from a distance. Perplexed, almost intrigued by the small little touches, the looks, the not-so accidental run-ins at the bar at every event they’ve gone to since Valerio’s unexpected arrival.

Lu turns 16, Carla throws a lavish party, and at the end of the night when Lu makes an excuse for skipping their usual sleepover and takes off with Valerio, Carla shakes her head in disbelief.

A week later, they’re lounging at her pool, enjoying the first real day of summer break, glasses of champagne in hand. Lu finishes two glasses before they ever make it into the pool.

Carla raises a well-sculpted brow in question.

“Val left for Chile,” she breathes out, clutching the champagne flute in her hand tight.

Carla thinks about this for a second.

“Good,” she finally says, determined. “Glad to have you back, Lu.”

Lu calls her a bitch, but shoots her a grateful look, pouring them both another glass.

Later, when Lu’s phone lights up with an Instagram dm from Valerio, Carla pretends she doesn’t notice the way her friend’s face changes.

“He’s drunk,” Lu sighs, showing Carla the selfie Valerio had seemingly sent from an outdoor rave. “It’s eight in the morning in Santiago, he’s been back for maybe 24 hours and he’s fucking drunk.”

She locks the phone and puts it down on the table.

“Let’s go for a swim,” Carla says and doesn’t wait for a response before diving in.

She resurfaces and splashes Lu, who is still perched at the end of the pool until she relents.

When the brunette finally jumps into the deep end with a sigh, Carla can’t help but smile. Summers have belonged to them for as long as she can remember. She’s not gonna let _Valerio_ , of all people, fuck that up.

…

They text occasionally over the next year, and sometimes, when he’s really drunk or fucked up on something far worse than tequila, he calls her.

He’s at yet another boarding school, in England this time, and she thinks she heard her father say several prime ministers attended before. It’s all the same to Valerio, though, who has a way of finding trouble no matter how prestigious the setting.

She wishes for the strength to ignore his calls, but never does. So when her phone goes off in the middle of the night sometime in September, she answers reluctantly, not saying anything.

He’s silent for at least twenty seconds, just listening to her breathing.

“It’s not fair,” he says, his voice somehow smooth and clear despite the shit coursing through his veins. “Coming home from parties is a lot more fun with you around.”

She sighs, trying hard not to hang up on him. Not that she ever would, because she craves these moments more than anything. Wants every little piece of himself he will give her, without ever having to ask for them. (Because she _can’t_ ask for anything, she reminds herself, a small but important detail she is struggling to remember when it’s four in the morning.)

“Val,” she breathes, and he groans on the other end of the line. Okay, maybe she could’ve made that sound less sexual. “Val,” she says again, more sternly this time. “It’s four in the morning and I have school tomorrow, and unlike you, I actually plan on going.”

“Yeah, whatever, goody two shoes,” he snickers.

“I’ll see you when you fail out of school! Can’t wait!” She retorts.

Valerio takes the bait, his voice immediately two octaves lower. “I bet you can’t.”

“I’m hanging up now,” she warns, at the same time she hears him prompt. “So what are you wearing?”

She hangs up, turns her phone to silent and tries to go back to sleep.

If it takes her longer than it should, it’s definitely not because she’s imagining what she would do if he was here right now.

She’s fucked in more ways than one.

…

For his 18th birthday in November, she drinks half a bottle of wine by herself and sends him a picture of herself in the new bikini she bought for her upcoming New Years' trip to Mexico. The fabric just barely covers enough skin for her to not be nude, and she knows for a fact that she looks absolutely amazing in it.

The shot is perfect as well, framed from just the right angle, highlighting every curve in her body. (She mentally adds photo creds to Carla, who takes a mean picture if she does say so herself.)

She sees him starting to type, but then the three dots disappear. It should not feel this good to know he’s startled.

 **21:57:** _Fuck you_  
**22:09:** _I miss you_  
**22:43:** _Need to see you soon_

Every now and then, Lu enjoys a little reminder that he’s just as fucked up over her as she is over him.

…

He doesn’t come home for Christmas. She can’t decide if she’s relieved or disappointed.

Disappointing people is one of his favorite things in life, she shouldn’t be surprised.

She wishes he could stop disappointing absolutely everyone for once.

…

Lucrecia is drunk. More drunk than she would normally let herself get, but it has been a shitty fucking month, no, maybe year - Marina is dead and she had taken on the full-time role of Guzmán’s therapist slash punching bag over the summer, which had required her to be more well behaved than she’d like to be. In the end, she had given in to Carla’s pleas and gone to this stupid end of summer party.

Guzmán had long collapsed in a corner somewhere, drunk and angry and brooding all at once, and she’d been grateful to see Polo following him there. She needed a night off from him.

So she’s on her fourth (or maybe it’s her fifth?) G&T, absentmindedly scanning the outdoor area for people she might know when she spots Val. Of course he’s here. This is how he would choose to make an entrance. The second she spots him she can tell he’s on something. Adderall, she thinks, or maybe coke.

It's not surprise, per se, that she feels when she sees him. He'd even texted her to tell her he was home, information she had tried to ignore during her final days of staying with Guzmán's grandparents in Asturias. Lu does however immediately feel torn between wanting to slap him and running up to him for a hug. 

She’s sweating and dancing and her curled hair is clinging to her face when she sees him, sipping a drink and watching her. He licks his lips and she turns away, but only lasts one more song before she’s walking over to him.

They stare at each other, neither of them sure what to say after not seeing each other for over a year. The atmosphere is tense for a second, but then he cracks a giant grin (yeah, she thinks, he’s definitely on _something_ ) and hugs her so tight she feels lightheaded.

“Holy shit, you’re here,” he whispers in her ear, his arms still wrapped around her.

There’s all kinds of things she wants to say, wants to ask him about, but she’s had enough drinks to ignore all of that for now. Right now, all she wants to do is drag him out onto the dance floor and show everyone else at this party what good dancing looks like.

They dance for a few minutes, which feel like hours, her green dress spinning as the sun sets over the city. His grip on her hip and hand is the perfect combination of firm and insistent, and she feels like she’s right where she belongs.

He rubs off on her. Always has, just a little bit. He smiles and giggles and he's all dark messy curls and craziness, and there's a lightness about him that she kind of envies.

Finally, he dips her down low, looking at her for a second as they catch their breath before they finally erupt into giggles and take a mocking bow in front of the small group of people that had been watching them.

So they spend the rest of the night catching up, drinking copious amounts of alcohol, and she thinks if this is what it’s like to have Val (not her _brother_ , she never calls him that, not even in her head) back in her life, she could live with it.

But every time she looks at his hands, she wants them on her, and sometimes he'll lick his bottom lip and she wants to do it for him.

Once, last year, just before he’d left, she had made him promise this wouldn’t happen again. There'd been tears, mainly from him, a shouting match carried out in hushed whispers to avoid waking up the rest of their family.

Now, at four in the morning, when they quietly sneak into the house in hopes of not waking their dad, she pulls him into her room and sighs, all the lightness and giggles of the night gone.

She has her back to him, trying to gather her bearings, when she hears the lock click in place.

“Val,” is all she says before his hands are on the zipper of her dress, and it’s like he anticipated what she was about to remind him of.

“You know I was never very good with promises, Lu.”

She loves the way he says her name.

So if she turns in his arms and lets her dress drop to the floor, it’s only because she’s drunk, not because she’s been thinking about this for the better part of a year and he feels like home.

And really, there’s no place quite like home.

**Author's Note:**

> find me [on tumblr](http://cupcakeb.tumblr.com/)


End file.
